Hold Me
by Trunks on Toast
Summary: Trunks/Goten yaoi, songfic. when their relationship starts falling apart, Trunks can only see one way to fix it- but at what cost?


disclaimer: don't own DBZ or the song. but i *do* currently own chocolate ice-cream, so i guess i'll have to settle for that  
  
a/n: it's a T/Gt songfic to Savage Garden's "Hold Me" (go download it! it's a good song). and it's the only "serious" relationship fic that i've actually managed to finish! whoo!  
  
warning: just a bit o lime, and some mushiness. oh, and yaoi of course, but *arch eyebrow* no one would be stupid enough to flame me about *that* since I already put it in the summary  
  
note: song lyrics are the in the brackets [ ]  
  
  
  
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[ Hey yea  
  
If we can't find a way out of these problems  
  
Then maybe we don't need this ]  
  
"Where have you been?"  
  
"Work."  
  
"It's after midnight."  
  
"I had to stay late."  
  
"Again? Trunks, this is the fourth time this month!"  
  
"Look, it's not easy running a company! I'm tired, and I just want to . . ."  
  
"You'd do anything to avoid me, wouldn't you."  
  
A tense silence fell as an age-old argument came to life, and the two men braced themselves to have wounds re-opened. It was always the same thing, every time, but that never made the hurt any less.  
  
[ Standing face to face  
  
Enemies at war we build defenses  
  
And secret hiding places ]  
  
Goten sighed in defeat and hung his head, refusing to meet his lover's eyes. No, he wouldn't do this again. He couldn't. These fights were getting more and more frequent, and he couldn't stand having them on a daily basis.  
  
They still sparred together like when they were younger, but now most of the spars were verbal. Sometimes physical combat was the only way for the two demi-saiyans to be in a room without arguing.  
  
[ I might need you to hold me tonight  
  
I might need you to say it's alright  
  
I might need you to make the first stand  
  
Because tonight I'm finding it hard to be your man ]  
  
"You know what? Forget it. Lets just go to bed."  
  
Trunks regarded him tiredly, not saying anything for a few seconds. Another silence fell, but this one was of weary resignation. Then finally-  
  
"Goten, look, I . . ."  
  
But he changed his mind and closed his mouth, shaking his head.  
  
He owed Goten an apology. For coming home late, for arguing with him, for . . . everything. For making him believe that things would work out, when he knew they wouldn't. The love between them was genuine, but it just wasn't enough.  
  
Not so long ago, Trunks wouldn't have hesitated to tell his lover anything. He remembered lazy afternoons when they would lie on a grassy hill after some light training, and just . . . talk. About everything and nothing at all. Sometimes it seemed like they did it just to hear their voices interact. But now . . .  
  
There was too much resentment, too much hurt that went unspoken between them. The safest thing was just to seek shelter in the sex hope for a better day tomorrow.  
  
[ Hey yea  
  
More than angry words I hate this silence  
  
It's getting so loud  
  
Well I want to scream  
  
But bitterness has silenced these emotions  
  
It's getting hard to breathe ]  
  
Loud panting filled the darkened bedroom, escalating to low moans as two heated bodies urgently thrust against each other. Trunks closed his eyes and concentrated on the pleasure coursing through his body, desperately trying to lose himself in carnal bliss. Their lovemaking was seldom gentle, but now it was bordering on brutal. Clothes had been discarded as soon as they hit the bed, and Goten was barely prepared before being entered. No foreplay, and no whispered endearments- just passion and, hopefully, a quick fix of euphoria.  
  
That wish was granted as the younger man groaned his release, covering their muscled stomachs with his slick essence. The older wasn't far behind as he sped up his thrusting, finally reaching his climax with a quiet shout.  
  
Breathing harshly, he held himself up on trembling arms for a moment before collapsing to the side of his lover. Extending his arm behind the edge of the bed, he blindly groped around for an article of clothing. When his hand finally came in contact with what felt more or less like cloth, he grabbed it and handed it to the man beside him. Silently Goten accepted it and wiped himself off, tossing it to the side when he was done- they'd clean it up later.  
  
Then with nothing more left to do, the two of them moved to their respective sides of the bed and drifted off to sleep, not a single word uttered the whole time.  
  
[ So tell me isn't happiness  
  
Worth more than a gold diamond ring?  
  
I'm willing to do anything  
  
To calm the storm in my heart ]  
  
3 hours later found Trunks wide-awake and staring at the ceiling. He glanced at the alarm clock that glowed 4:07, agitated at his inability to go back to sleep. His mind was too jumbled with a million thoughts and half-cooked ideas, that he doubted rest would come anytime soon. One thing, or rather, "plan," kept gnawing at him. For a long time it had simmered in the back of his mind, but now it was becoming a serious consideration.  
  
The time machine.  
  
It was only a prototype, but all tests showed that it worked smoothly enough. The only reason that Capsule Corp hadn't gone public with it yet had to do with the whole time-line controversy that was brewing among the public. Perhaps he could use it to . . .  
  
No. Messing with decisions made in the past would only complicated things more- and the relationship was hanging on by a thread as it was.  
  
But then again, maybe a relationship so fragile was never meant to be in the first place. If they kept going like this, the resentment would grow. Possibly even mutate into hate. Trunks couldn't take that chance- even if it meant settling for a platonic friendship.  
  
[ I've never been the praying kind  
  
But lately I've been down upon my knees  
  
Not looking for a miracle  
  
Just a reason to believe ]  
  
He rolled over to face Goten, who had fallen asleep facing his lover's side of the bed. Slowly Trunks reached up and stroked the side of his face gently, marveling at his peaceful visage. The youngest Son still radiated innocence, even as an adult.  
  
Leaning over very carefully, so as not to wake the sleeping man, he placed a feather-light kiss on his cheek.  
  
"I'm sorry," he breathed, his voice so quiet he could barely hear it. "I wish . . . things had turned out better. The way they were supposed to."  
  
Funny how easy it is to talk to someone when you know that they can't hear you. Trunks paused and simply stared at the slumbering figure before him, memorizing every tiny detail to preserve the moment for eternity.  
  
[ I might need you to hold me tonight  
  
I might need you to say it's alright ]  
  
Regretfully he slid off the bed and made his way to the closet, picking out a pair of pants and a shirt at random. Dressing quickly in the dark, he more or less made himself presentable to go out. He padded out of the room and returned a good half an hour later, carrying a folded paper in his hand. He placed it beside the alarm clock that now read 4:53, then casting one last look at Goten and whispering a soft, "I love you," pushed open the large window and took to the sky.  
  
[ I might need you to make the first stand  
  
Because tonight I'm finding it hard to be your man ]  
  
The first thing to register in Goten's sleep-drugged mind was the cold. He shivered and drew the sheets around him tighter, but that did nothing to alleviate the chilliness. Finally he forced open his eyes to locate its source, and was immediately greeted with an open window.  
  
Well no wonder! But that was strange . . . Trunks usually woke up at the crack of dawn, and it was still nearly dark outside- a few weak rays of light were the only sources of illumination. Why hadn't he closed . . .  
  
Suddenly he sat bolt upright. Trunks! Where . . .  
  
Just then his eyes came to rest on the white piece of paper fluttering in the wind. With a sinking stomach he scooted over to get a hold of it, somehow knowing that last night was an ending of a sort. Small tremors shook his hands as he unfolded the letter, a bad taste settling in his mouth as his whole body grew heavy with dread.  
  
"Goten,"  
  
it began, in Trunks' elegant handwriting.  
  
"You know how much I love you, so I won't waste time trying to prove it. And I hope you know that during the past six years that we've been together, I don't regret a single moment of it. That's the truth, and that's the reason why what I'm about to do is nearly killing me. You'll never admit it out loud, but both of us are miserable. We fight all the time, and when we're not fighting we barely talk to each other at all. Part of it . . . most of it, is my fault- I know that. I'm sorry for making you worry, and picking fights with you . . . I'm sorry, Goten. Even from childhood I was always the troublemaker. I guess old habits die hard, hmm? And even though I have no regrets until now, I can't be sure about the future. I don't want us to end up trapped and hating each other, just because I was too weak to end it now, when the pain is still bearable.  
  
[ Do you remember not long ago?  
  
When we used to live for the nighttime  
  
Cherish each moment  
  
Now we don't live we exist  
  
We just run through our lives ]  
  
I've been working on building a time machine . . . that's why I've been staying at work so long lately. It was never to get away from you. It's different from the one my future mom built- this one you don't physically go back in time; instead you pinpoint major events and decisions that had a measurable impact on your life, and you change it. It's pretty much in working order now.  
  
Whatever you do, you can't believe that this is an attempt to weasel my way out of our relationship. I know messing with the past in dangerous- but I'd rather take that risk than going on in our current state, knowing how we're eventually going to end up.  
  
I'm sorry for everything, but most of all I'm sorry that you have to find this out in a note because I didn't have the courage to face you myself.  
  
There are about a million more things to be said, but it's almost sunrise and I need to get to the lab before people start arriving for work. And the longer I stay, the harder it's going to be for me to leave. I love you."  
  
[ So alone  
  
That's why you've got to hold me ]  
  
And it was signed, in an achingly familiar fashion,  
  
"Trunks"  
  
Before the grief had time to set in, a small sounded outside grabbed his attention. In a flash he was outside, looking down at a dejected purple- headed man sitting on the front porch. Swiftly he lowered himself down to sit beside him waiting for him to speak.  
  
"I was just . . . thinking."  
  
"Oh."  
  
A slight pause.  
  
"I'm still going to go through with it."  
  
"I know."  
  
"I'm sorry."  
  
"I know that too."  
  
A sad grin as his companion turned to face him.  
  
"Well you just know everything don't you."  
  
An equally sad answering grin.  
  
"Guess I do."  
  
Finally, with nothing more to say, Trunks stood up and got ready to leave. He looked off into the distance for a second then looked back at his best friend and lover, forcing another smile to cheer him up.  
  
"Hey, don't look so gloomy. I'll still be around."  
  
"Yea, but . . . you know."  
  
It wouldn't be the same. He didn't have to say it out loud; they both knew it. Once Trunks changed the past so that they never got together, everything they knew to be true in this moment would be undone. Feeling like he would start screaming or crying, probably both, if one of them didn't leave soon, he hastily floated a few meters into the air towards the open window.  
  
"Well, I'd better go get dressed. My students are gonna beat me down with my own moves if I'm late to class again."  
  
Faint laughter. Goten had become a widely respected martial arts teacher, and he loved teaching fighting as much as the actual deed.  
  
"So . . . I guess I'll see you then."  
  
"Yea. I'll see you."  
  
With that both demi-saiyans took off, one to their shared home and one to the past.  
  
[ Hey yea  
  
If we can't find a way out of these problems  
  
Then maybe we don't need this ]  
  
Goten dragged himself home, his back still smarting from a particularly skilled move that one of his best pupils had executed. He was incredibly proud, of course- they had worked on that move for weeks- but that didn't meant it didn't hurt when her elbow connected with his spine.  
  
He reached for the doorknob and paused, remembering the conversation early this morning. The thought of coming home to an empty house caused a tightness in his chest, but he forcefully pushed down the wave of sadness that threatened to overwhelm him, and firmly turned the knob.  
  
Once inside he quickly checked all the rooms, knowing that Trunks wouldn't be there but not being able to put his mind at ease unless he did otherwise. Before he got to the last few rooms, the sound of footsteps in the kitchen had him downstairs in a flash.  
  
It couldn't be. But maybe, just . . . maybe.  
  
[ Standing face to face  
  
Enemies at war we build defenses  
  
And secret hiding places ]  
  
"Hey bro!"  
  
Goten's face fell; along with his heart.  
  
"Hey Gohan," he replied, trying to sound happy to see him. It was always good to see his brother, but he was so sure it was . . .  
  
"I was over at mom's yesterday and she wanted me to bring you some cookies she made."  
  
Chuckling lightly, he gestured to the oversized basket sitting on the kitchen table. It was heaped with chocolate chip cookies, all of which were practically the size of a plate.  
  
"Three years of living on your own and she still treats you like a kid."  
  
When Goten didn't launch into his usual complaints about being babied so much, he took a closer look at his little brother. Something was definitely off.  
  
"Hey, what's wrong?"  
  
"Nothing!" the younger exclaimed, a little too loudly. "Nothing," he repeated, lowering his voice. "I had a bad class. I'll be fine."  
  
Gohan gave him a skeptical look. He certainly didn't look fine.  
  
"Seriously. I'll just go to sleep and forget the whole day happened."  
  
The oldest Son shrugged, grabbing a cookie from the heap.  
  
"If you say so. But if you need to talk, I'm here ok?"  
  
"Ok. Thanks."  
  
He would probably take him up on that later. But not now- he needed time to let things completely sink in.  
  
"Well I gotta go pick up Pan, so I'll see you later then!"  
  
Strange how a simple, often-used phrase has the ability so deeply.  
  
"See ya."  
  
[ I might need you to hold me tonight  
  
I might need you to say it's alright ]  
  
Wanting nothing more than to sink into a deep dreamless sleep, Goten trudged upstairs, not bothering to check the last two rooms. It was futile anyway. When he finally reached his bedroom, his fatigue was so overwhelming that he almost didn't notice the man sitting on the bed.  
  
"Hey."  
  
"Trunks," he whispered, then caught himself before he made a complete fool out of himself. "It's, uh, good to see you. How've you . . ."  
  
"I didn't do it," Trunks interrupted, getting up and walking towards his stunned friend. "I couldn't . . . it . . . the machine broke," he finished lamely. He was now standing right in front of Goten, hardly half a foot between them.  
  
"Oh?"  
  
"Yea, you know prototypes, they always . . ."  
  
Without warning the raven-haired man closed the gap and crushed them together in a fierce embrace, burying his head in Trunks' shoulder. There was barely a second of hesitation before the embrace was returned, strong arms circling his waist tightly.  
  
"Shut up," came the muffled command.  
  
[ I might need you to hold me tonight I might need you to say it's alright ]  
  
"I couldn't do it," he whispered, running his fingers through the silky black locks. "I had to, but I . . . it didn't seem right."  
  
Goten sighed, reveling in the reassuring feel of his lover's solid body in his arms. He had come so close to losing this; to losing everything.  
  
"It wasn't." he replied firmly, lifting his head and looking deep into azure eyes. Such wonderful eyes- one could see right into his soul, if they knew how. "We'll . . . we'll work it out."  
  
"Yea," he said softly, returning the intense gaze. "We'll work it out."  
  
[ I might need you to make the first stand  
  
Because tonight I'm finding it hard to be your man ]  
  
  
  
Fin. 


End file.
